


The Heart That Continues On

by Nihonkikuasa211



Category: Code Black (TV)
Genre: Discussions of Relationships, F/M, Heartbreak, Post 1x18, Post-Break Up, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:11:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6151789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihonkikuasa211/pseuds/Nihonkikuasa211
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A comment made in the OR by Campbell and being the sitter for a patient who tried to commit suicide from a failed relationship allows Neal to open up about the heartbreak that he too has experienced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Heart That Continues On

_The Heart That Continues On_

 

              “Do you ever wonder why we save people like them, Dr. Hudson?”

            Neal paused in suturing the patient’s head and looked up to find Campbell looking at him. A man in his early thirties had been rushed into the ER with a self-inflicted gunshot wound to the head. It was a clear suicide attempt, and Neal had ordered the as of now unnamed man to the OR, where he paged Campbell of the patient they had been previously been operating on.

             “What exactly are you talking about, Dr. Campbell?” Neal stated evenly despite feeling the temperature drop in the OR.

            “Look at this man, Dr. Hudson.” Neal could see Campbell start to remove his gloves and point to the now-stable patient on the gurney. “Two wedding rings – an engagement ring hung like jewelry around his neck. It clearly belongs to a woman.” Campbell’s dark eyes surveyed Neal’s for a moment, as if challenging him again. “Another one, freshly new and polished, never worn, around his finger.” Neal inwardly swallowed the growing uncomfortable feeling in his stomach as Campbell made a noise similar to a scoff. “He clearly wanted to die, Dr. Hudson. Scorned by some break-up, no doubt. So why are we wasting our time and our energy more suited to –?”

            “We should not be in a posiiton to talk about this, Dr. Campbell.” Neal stated diplomatically “Everyone deserves to be saved, especially those who believe there is nothing left.” The dark-haired surgeon couldn’t help but remember another time. Christa had disobeyed an DNR order on a patient who wanted to die, and he had told her to stop. This statement coming from him now was hypocritical of him. After all, hadn’t he been the one to stop her from preforming CPR on the patient with schizophrenia who had the DNR order? He could still remember his voice telling Christa to stop, holding her hands in his as he looked into her eyes. Neal wondered, no he knew, that Christa believed he had been angry with her. No, it hadn’t been anger. The dark-haired surgeon looked at Campbell and away from the now-bittersweet memories as his supposed-mentor began to speak.

             _I could never be angry at you, Christa._

            “So, you do not care about the power of attorney, or that this guy probably will hate you because you saved him?” The look of contempt was now clearly seen in Campbell’s eyes, and Neal was shocked by the amount of hot anger that surfaced through his stomach at the sight of Campbell’s superior tone. “That’s how these people are, Dr. Hudson.”

            “This man will one day be grateful that he is alive,” Neal stated clearly. He was careful to not show the emotion seeping through his veins. “The pain…and emptiness…will one day become a memory that serves to show that he survived.”

            There was a heavy silence in the OR as the meaning of Neal’s words sunk in. The attending surgeon could feel Heather Pinkney’s gaze on him, and tried to fight the urge to swallow. Suddenly, Campbell looked at him more closely.

            “You know what that feels like, don’t you.” It was a statement and not a question. Neal looked away as Campbell appeared to survey him as if he was seeing him for the first time. “The heartbreak.” There was a slight pause in the surgeon’s tone as Neal turned his attention to finishing suturing the patient’s head wound. “You’re talking about Dr. Lorenson, aren’t you?”

            The name caused Neal to look up despite himself and he felt the pain enter in his heart, clenching as he tried to ignore the feeling. He could still remember of his failed words echoed in his mind as he watched Christa walk away. _“You’re not my –”_ But the words always failed him, didn’t they? That was why he had said nothing as Grace refused his proposal, shock deep within him as he blankly stared at the woman he had asked to marry him. That was why he allowed Christa to walk away, even though desperate and delirious words had been on his lips. The pain came later. It tore through him, and Neal attempted to not remember of how it was fairly possible the shock and pain that he was experiencing now had echoed across his face as Christa walked away.

            “Why are we talking about personal matters, Campbell?”

            There was no answer to his question, and Neal took it as his sign to leave as he left the OR, forcing himself not to look back at see the pity reflected in the surgical teams’ gaze.

            “Dr. Hudson.”

            Neal looked back and saw something similar to sympathy on Campbell’s face.

            “I’m sorry about your relationship with Dr. Lorenson.”

            Neal didn’t know what to say. That was possibly the kindest thing Campbell had ever said to him since he had met him one that bloody day with the death of one of their own. _Blaming us for her death._ Swallowing slightly, the dark-haired surgeon turned and walked out of the OR doors.

* * *

 

             “Why?” The restrains held as the patient tried to break away. “Why?” A broken look, filled with rage and horror, filled his face. “Why did you save me?” Anything that the patient could have used as a weapon was taken away. Now the only thing he was wearing was a hospital gown that all patients wore. Neal studied the man more closely, noting of the agony crossing his pale face as he attempted again and again to break free. Dark brown hair, almost black, curled around his face. His grey eyes looked stunned in the bright lights of the private room in the ER, and Neal noted that the patient was around the same age as him.

            “Why the hell did you save me?” Rage and growing despair echoed across the pale patient’s face, and he held his head in his hands. “You shouldn’t have… _done_ that! I was almost…almost…” Violent sobs shook from him, and Neal stared deeply at the man who was now crying into his sheets.

            “I was almost…! And _you_ had to ruin it!”

            Neal stood carefully from the chair that he was sitting in. Despite not having much experience in psychiatry, both Jesse and Leanne had told him that he would be watching over the patient. _“You’re the one that saved him,”_ Leanne had stated as she explained the situation. _“Now you have to save him again.”_ The look in his former mentor’s eyes made Neal understand that she understood what was going on – both in his mind and in the patient’s – before she gave him a small pat on the shoulder and told him where the patient was. Jesse had only looked at Neal and told him simply that he needed this.

            Neal pretended not to know what Jesse meant by that.

            “You don’t know what it’s like!” The patient continued to yell, the agony and rage in his voice increasing as his broken eyes stared into Neal’s dark brown. “You…don’t _know_! No one does!” Suddenly a smirk, full of pain and mockery, framed the grey-eyed man’s face. “I bet you never had a girl dump you, huh? Look at _you_! A handsome doctor surgeon!”

            “Actually,” Neal stated carefully, measuring his words as he stared at the patient who was breathing heavily. “I do.” There was a heavy pause, and Neal licked his lips and looked up briefly at the ceiling before continuing. “I know what it’s like. I should know,” he stated with a faint rasp. “It happened to me twice.”

           There was a pause. Neal felt something build in his throat as he stared at the empty look in those eyes. _Mirrors,_ he thought. Suddenly the patient started to laugh. It was a hysterical laughter that only came with serious pain, and Neal forced himself to not look away at the agony in those grey depths.

            “How are you alive, then?” There was hoarseness in the patient’s voice. A faint rasp of laughter escaped again. “How…are you alive still?”

            “I don’t know,” Neal stated honestly. It was true, he understood. The pain…the agony…the feeling of emptiness and _bleeding_ had been known to him months after Grace had left for Haiti. And then, now. Neal swallowed thickly, clearing his throat to prevent the memories of the sleepless nights and the tears that eventually came, robbing him of whatever comfort he had left, from his mind. “I had work…and a friend.” A small brush of gratefulness moved within his heart at the memory of Mike. “Every night, no matter how exhausted we were, he would simply talk to me.” The memory of hearing Mike’s voice even in the early hours in the morning brought comfort to the broken mess he had been. Mike didn’t say a word when Neal suddenly started sobbing into the phone, or speaking so feverishly that even Neal couldn’t understand what he was saying – only knowing of the pain. “Every night, he would let me talk. It didn’t matter what time it was, or if he had just gotten done with a shift and needed to sleep. Never did he ask me to hang up, or call him tomorrow.”

           Neal sighed and saw the dark-haired patient across from him slightly calmling, resting now against the restraints. The agony was still there.

            “He let him talk as long as I wanted, and he didn’t…try to tell me things that I couldn’t take then, or to stop crying when I cried.”

            _I don’t know where I would be without him today._

“I…tried that.” The grey eyes closed, and Neal could see the patient swallow as the words escaped from his mouth. “But…they didn’t understand. No _one_ understood.” There was a heavy gasp, and Neal pushed the chair closer as tears starting to fall from the man’s eyes. “After…after Rita left, I…couldn’t take it. I...tried…for months…”

            “The emptiness was so strong you felt as if you no longer had a heart,” Neal replied softly. He could see the patient looking at him in shock. “As if your heart was torn out of you. All that was left…” The dark-haired surgeon swallowed and blinked, the agony sleeping increasing again as he spoke. “All that was left was a gaping, bleeding hole where your heart used to be,” he concluded with a rasp.

            “My name…is Nathaniel.” The patient named Nathaniel looked at Neal nervously. “And you?” he whispered.

            “Neal,” the surgeon whispered. He tried to not think of how fast his heart would race as the sound of his name from Christa’s lips. The memory of her eyes as she looked at him burned him even that it almost physically left a mark.

            “What about the second one?” Nathaniel asked, his grey eyes widening as he stared at Neal. “You must…have…loved her a lot to try again. Right?” he asked when Neal did not reply.

            _Love._ Neal often wondered why this break-up with Christa had caused him so much pain. Even though they had only been together for five months, Neal could feel every agonizing moment when he and Christa were not together. In some ways, it was more difficult than the rejection from Grace. Perhaps it was because the relationship was so new, or that Neal hadn’t had the chance to tell Christa of how much she meant to him. Mike had tried to call him numerous times, but it was almost like Neal couldn’t physically talk about it. His tongue felt thick and his mind couldn’t _think_ when Mike attempted, whenever he called, to talk about Christa.

            The anger and screams had not come. Instead, there was only sadness and regret.

            And it hurt. It hurt, as if his heart had been torn out of his chest, leaving the hole that he had described to Nathaniel. Only it kept on bleeding. Months had passed since Neal and Christa had broken up, and Neal still felt the wound bleeding.

            He was beginning to wonder if it would ever stop.

            “Yes, I suppose I did love her.” The agony was evident through his voice, and Neal didn’t attempt to hide of the exposed emotions in his eyes. “I still do,” he confessed, every word causing pain to build in his chest. Nathaniel was looking at him carefully, a distant look on his face as he stared at the surgeon. “The empty space is still there, but there’s still hope, Nathaniel.”

            Thick tears started to trail down Nathaniel’s cheeks, his grey eyes becoming bloodshot as his face crumbled. “There is?” A gasp escaped from him as the patient’s hand started to shake. “There is? How? _How_ can there be anything left? She left me!” Nathaniel yelled, the rage surfacing as he turned to Neal, who was observing him with empathy. “She left me, when I was _left_ before!” A half-bark of a cry escaped from him. “How can there be –?”

            Neal moved his hand until it brushed against the patient’s. Then, his hand encircled Nathaniel’s until their fingers entwined. The dark-haired man looked up at Neal with shock, tears pouring from his eyes as the agony poured free.

            “If you cannot live now, you will again someday.” Neal spoke clearly, his voice calm even though he felt his voice to start to shake. “Someday, Nathaniel. I have never gone as far as you have, but I still remember the pain. The agony, so deep and dark that I thought I wouldn’t be able to smile again.” He took a short breath and took a moment to close his eyes. “If you cannot live for today,” Neal stated thickly, “then live moment by moment. Breath by breath. Heartbeat by heartbeat.”

            “And if that doesn’t work?” Nathaniel whispered. Tears leaked into his mouth as he spoke, and Neal licked his lips at the mirror his own face had been a year ago.

            A couple of weeks ago, when his heart had been torn out of his chest again.

            “If that doesn’t work, then _force_ yourself.” He squeezed Nathaniel’s hand. “ _Force_ yourself to breathe even though you don’t want to. Even though all you want to do is go to sleep. Force yourself, to breathe, until one day, you find yourself able to breathe again without telling yourself.”

            Neal felt tears rise against his eyes, but forced himself to hold himself together as Nathaniel started to lean his head against Neal’s chest. The man started to sob again, echoing the pain deep within Neal’s heart even though he wouldn’t allow it to break free. Not yet.

            “Tell yourself to breathe until you can find happiness in small things,” Neal continued to whisper to the devastated Nathaniel. “The small things…matter so much in the end, and eventually…you will so grateful that you lived.”

            “Even now?” Nathaniel choked. His tormented grey eyes bored into Neal’s tormented dark ones. “Even now, can you say…that you were grateful that you met your happiness?”

            _My happiness…_ Neal thought as he remembered Christa’s smile. Her voice as she told him there was no time for breakfast, pressing her nose against his naked arm. The feeling of kissing her, moving his mouth against hers with a smile. The sound of her laughter. The sight of her pain as his past, his heartbreak, entered in his life again.

            _“I won’t be anybody’s second choice.”_

“I don’t regret it,” Neal whispered. He could feel liquid against his face, but didn’t move to wipe the tears away.

            “Why?” Nathaniel looked at him, his eyes wide but understanding as he knew the answer that was about to come from Neal’s lips.

            Neal bit his lip and thinly smiled.

            “Because. She…" Neal corrected himself, allowing his heart to recoil in pain and a brief sense of happiness as the sound of Christa's name left his lips.

            "Christa is still my happiness.”


End file.
